Novel Inspiration
by shakespeare-lozza
Summary: a writer needs inspiration, especially for Hermione who is absolutely down on her luck. but what happens when inspiration comes in the form of the sinfully gorgeous Draco Malfoy? will sparks fly or does their blood hatred run too deep?
1. the misery of an unfinished novel

_His fingers dug into the skin of my back, his lips a bruising punishment upon the delicate skin of my neck._

_A scream welled in my throat, before I was smothered by his ferocious ardour._

_His cold fingers tunnelled through my hair, sending slight trembles down to the base of my spine._

_My body grew warm against my will, pulsating against his sinewy frame._

_A gasp came unbidden from my throat as he ran his tongue across the seam of my lips…_

_his eyes glittered a mercurial __blue__…_

_no... green__…_

_... grey. _

* * *

Hermione sighed with discontent, as the wad of parchment ricocheted off the side of the waste basket only to fall to the floor, "stupid. This is so stupid."

Reflexively, she reached for her wand. _Accio crap piece of writing,_ and in an instant, the scrunched up piece of paper flew speedily into her open palm only to be thrusted into her pocket.

Her novel was due in less than a month and she was still a good length from reaching the word limit. Her editor was going to MURDER her. She was going to end up dead in the Forbidden Forest, still glowing a strange shade of green after being freshly decimated by an array of Unforgivables.

Hermione's mind took a second to flash to the pudgy, miserable Mr. Conche, sitting alone in his office, adjusting his spectacles every two minutes. He'd wash his hands with four different types of disinfectant and toilet spray every nook and cranny of his office until it smelt like the Retirees Knitting Club.

Hermione began to reconsider his capacity for murder.

However what she did know was that she wasn't going to get her pay check until the novel was finished. She was woman enough to admit that she was broke. Sure, one would think that having Dentists for parents would solve the problem right away, but not when they found out that she'd accidently spent her pin money on a charitable organisation for homeless gnomes that didn't exist.

Yes, she'd been conned good and proper, if anyone knew…

Embarrassment personified.

Hermione felt the quill fall from her fingers, sending small blotches across the remaining parchment. She slammed her head into her hands, her elbows sending shockwaves across the small wooden writing desk.

She was stuffed.

More stuffed than Ron was for his Potions Practical.

And that was saying something.

There just seemed to be something wrong with her work…

It wasn't right.

OH WAIT.

Maybe it was because she was still a virgin.

Nearly no sexual experience could possibly account for the fact that she had NO IDEA WHAT THE HELL SHE WAS WRITING ABOUT.

Hermione mumbled angrily beneath her breath, "I can't exactly go up to Harry and Ron and tell them I need them to… to…"

A flurried blush suffused her features as she thought about the absolute horror that would be born of such a situation.

Hermione checked her watch, she was already five minutes late for corridor duty. With haste she pushed away from her desk to pace to the portrait entrance of the Prefect tower. It was bad enough having to perform prefect duties as well as write a sodding novel, but Hermione took it in her stride.

Yep, so much so that she strode right into the hard frame of one very dishevelled Slytherin Prince, who appeared to be returning from one very _demanding _afternoon in Pansy's dorm room.

"Watch where you're bloody going, Granger," Malfoy yelled as Hermione rammed into him, he moved in such a manner as to block her exit, his arm coming up in support as he leaned menacingly over her, "Sure thing little-miss-know-it-all, feel free to walk all over your inferiors, but don't you dare try such a thing with your betters."

Hermione fumed, her chocolate curls forming a forbidding halo about her face, without thought she jabbed him roughly in the stomach with her wand, causing him to wince in pain, "Malfoy, it's not my fault you are such a skinny rodent easily shoved over by a girl!"

And with that Hermione stormed out, her eyes flashing in barely restrained anger.

Malfoy tried very hard to stop the look of amusement from suffusing his face (beyond his volition of course!), finally pushing his brows into what he hoped was a semblance of disgusted annoyance.

However the look melted away as he noted a small bit of parchment on the floor, and curiosity – although being known to kill the cat, but never a Malfoy- soon took hold.

The first line was all it took to have his eyebrows disappear into his hairline.

* * *

Thank you for reading the first chapter of _'novel inspiration'_

Please read and review, as I find it really rewarding to get your responses.

Please feel free to check out my other stories!

love shakespearelozza xx


	2. the art of seduction

Draco had pondered the issue for the last two days.

Looked at the situation from all possible aspects and had come to only one conclusion.

Hermione Granger had to be a prostitute.

There was no other explanation, as absolutely inexplicable and out of left field it seemed, Draco knew without doubt that Hermione was involved in some sort of shady business.

Now the question that remained fixed was rather obvious

_Why?_

The words came unbidden to his mind, washing over him like a wave…

_My body grew warm against my will, pulsating against his sinewy frame…_

Whose body? Hermione's? Strangely the feeling of disgust at the thought of Hermione-sodding-know-it-all-Granger naked, that was supposed to have hit in about a second ago, refused to take effect. Malfoy tried not to think too hard into it, the day had passed in a blur and thinking this late in the evening was probably detrimental to ones health anyway. So there he lay on the prefect common room couch in a state of complete inactivity, his eyes tracing the intricate engravings that graced the ceilings. Besides, he deserved a decent rest for having to think so hard about Granger's strange piece of paper. No **sane** human thought anything too intelligent past seven.

As if appearing out of the wings of some great romantic play, Hermione Granger just happened to sweep in right on cue, her nose buried in a book.

_Probably studying for the finals a few months in advance._

_Bloody typical._

Draco felt a heaving sigh loose itself from his lungs, swinging his legs over the edge of the sofa only to crack his feet on the wooden floor. He was raring for a little bit of question and answer time with the _pure, virginal little mudblood_.

Hermione jumped at the sudden noise, tripping slightly on the edge of the carpet in surprise. Her hands were seen to rapidly slam the novel in her hands shut, shoving it defensively behind her back.

_How very curious…_

Draco felt his eyebrow rise without thought. Granger was definitely hiding something and damn if he wasn't going to find out what it was.

Upon studying her as she stood in quiet anticipation, Draco couldn't help but note how the look on her face resembled a gnome after it had been thrown over ones garden wall. Draco decided it would be wise to strike whilst she was still placid, you never knew when suddenly Granger would throw on the 'I'm so bloody self-righteous' act.

"Well if it isn't my favourite little mudblood?" Draco smirked, his tone turning snide as he gave her a humiliating 'once over' just for good measure, "enjoy your evening stroll, princess?"

He could almost see the blood boiling beneath her skin, the clockwork in her mind ticking into place as her lips formed a tart retort, "Oh indeed, Malfoy, in fact, I was just reading a very enlightening novel…" her eyes seemed to flash with banked fire, "of course, I wouldn't expect you of all people to understand, you see, a novel is a bundle of pages all stuck together like this."

Draco started, "Don't push me woman."

She flipped through the pages ignoring him like one would a pesky insect, her voice laced with patronising sarcasm, "and when you learn to read you will see many just like them!"

Draco fumed, his hand going to the top of the couch only to vault over it, coming to stand right in front of her, blocking any means of escape. Draco stood their for a second amazed at his own spontaneity, however as his eyes caught hold of the book in her hands he smiled maliciously, "I know Granger," Draco stepped slightly closer, enough to make Hermione flinch away uncomfortably, "seeing as you are _obviously _my intellectual superior, being able to read and all, perhaps you'd consider teaching me from that book you've got there." He drawled, staring pointedly at the novel dangling from her lax fingers.

Hermione visibly blanched, the colour running from her face as if bleached, "Uhh… this is far too advanced for a feeble mind such as yours… in fact you are pretty much incurable! Good night." She rapidly tried to shove the novel back behind her, moving in such a manner as to side step him and run to her dorm room. Unfortunately a plan easily foiled by Draco's vice like grip which wrapped about her wrist mid-action like an iron shackle.

"For the love of Merlin!" Hermione desperately tried to writhe out of his clutches only to have him hold her tighter, "Give… me… back… my… bloody book!"

With a quick snatching motion, Hermione was easily relieved of her book as Draco held it high above his head.

"Why are you getting so worked up about all this, Granger?" Malfoy laughed as Hermione made some futile swipes at his upraised arm, "besides, as you said, it's just a bloody book."

Hermione bristled for a second before panic set like a mould across her features. Her gaze flickered wildly from the novel to Draco, and he instantaneously felt guilty.

Almost guilty enough to give the girl her stupid book back.

_Almost._

He laughed cruelly, unthinkingly. It was a nice feeling to have one-upped the impertinent Ms. Granger, it didn't happen to many, and Draco basked in the glory of the moment.

Someone had to put the girl in her place, it wasn't his faul-

"Draco."

The voice was so tiny that he swore he must have misheard. When had Granger ever called him Draco? Never.

"Draco, can I please have my book back?"

He looked down only to see the usually feisty Hermione Granger with her head bent facing the ground.

_Now this was a first._

It was only then that Draco realised quite how petite she was, her head fitting almost perfectly into the hollow of his shoulder. She looked so innocent and vulnerable that Draco began to question his prostitute theory very seriously.

But what could have explained that note that he'd found on the ground?

_A gasp came unbidden from my throat as he ran his tongue across the seam of my lips…_

Draco shook his head viciously as the words ran like an annoyingly unforgettable song through his consciousness.

_No._

Why would any one want to write that kind of…

Well..

You know…

Especially Granger!

She couldn't be as innocent as she seemed!

And yet..

_But wait up._

Why did he even care?

What the hell did Hermione's innocence mean to him?

So she wasn't a virgin, he didn't give a damn.

Well, there was a slight twinge of annoyance.

… _well it was a little more than slight._

What the hell?

Draco knew he had to get to the bottom of this, and without a second thought he looked up at the book that he clasped tightly above his head. He squinted at the words, trying to make out the gold lettering that embellished the front…

Only to have his eyes widen in shock.

"Wha-? _The Art of Seduction?_"

Draco didn't hear the gasp of horror that sounded from Hermione's direction.

"_pleasure and delights of the east…_ what the-?" Draco felt the words roll off his tongue, wonder as heady as smoke whirling about him in a thick mist.

He was too late to stop Hermione from running off in tears.

Draco could have sworn his jaw lay in a shattered mess on the ground.

Hermione Granger was reading _The Art of Seduction?_

_Well, so much for studying for the finals._

So Draco found himself in one of the most interesting predicaments of his life. Whether it was an enviable position to be in was debatable, to say the least.

What the bloody hell was going on with Granger?

In the space of less than a week Draco suddenly had more dirt on Hermione, than Potter had fan girls. For a man in his walk of life, after loving the woman for the last few years as much as he did a canker sore, this was little less than pure gold.

However that unfortunate thing called conscience kept rearing its godawful head.

So he had one condemning, lust filled note.

Check.

One sordid book of Granger's now in his possession.

Check.

One very guilty looking Granger sobbing in her room.

Check.

Information beyond his wildest dreams.

Now what the bloody hell was he going to do about it?


End file.
